


Blue Raspberry Isn't A Real Flavor But Ronan Isn't Really Real Either

by floor20



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Bad Decisions Involving Cars And Speed, Car Sex, Drinking, Drugs, Excessive Swearing, Homophobic Language, M/M, Underage Drinking, flawed coping mechanisms, honestly these boys are very sweet and i love them a lot but they're such ASSHOLES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floor20/pseuds/floor20
Summary: terrible boys being terrible because they can't sleep and are both very gay and have a night to waste





	Blue Raspberry Isn't A Real Flavor But Ronan Isn't Really Real Either

2:54.  Ronan glanced at the time, checking how he felt against how he was supposed to be feeling at this early time in the morning.  They didn’t match up.  Ronan watched the speedometer climb, higher and higher, with a detached interest.  Sometimes drinking made him more, more fun or more mean, or more dangerous.  Tonight he just felt less.  He was tired, unable to locate himself and the joy he would normally feel speeding down a dark, quiet road.  He ran a red light.  

2:54. Kavinsky was behind the wheel of his car as well, though he was unable to sleep not for fear of what lurked there, for having seen his father’s head leaking into the ground, but because he had done 3 lines of something that made him feel incredibly fast, and didn’t want to waste the high by taking a sleeping pill.  He smiled wickedly at the roar of the engine as he forced it faster, and faster.  

2:57.  Ronan heard the him before he saw him, and a smirk broke across his face.  He could’ve identified the sound of Kavinsky’s car 20, 30 years from now.  He looked in his rearview mirror and saw the white car, it’s driver flashing him a wild grin.  He continued to drive, expecting Kavinsky to pull up next to him, to try to race- Ronan flicked off the A/C in anticipation.  But Kavinsky stayed behind him, tailgating him.  Ronan pressed his foot down harder on the gas, but Kavinsky matched his speed, coming so close Ronan was sure they would collide.  He waited for a parking lot to pull into to appear, and in the nature of Virginia, it was a church that appeared to him.  He flicked on his turn signal.

3:09. Kavinsky pulled into the church parking lot after Ronan, parking right next to him in the otherwise empty place.  The whole town felt empty, except for him and Ronan.  That made Kavinsky’s heart beat faster, though he didn’t quite know why.  He turned the car off, and suddenly the only sounds in the world were chirping crickets and the slam of Ronan’s car door as he clambered out of his car.  Kavinsky smiled and leaned back.

“You wear your sunglasses at night? God, you’re an asshole.”

“Are you really going to swear right outside the house of the lord, fag?” Kavinsky turned his head to look at Ronan.  Kavensky was fascinated by Ronan Lynch.  The cruel curve of his smile, the was his tattoo looked as though it had blossomed there, rather than been inked on in recent years.  Kavinsky couldn’t imagine Ronan as a child- how could anything as terrible and beautiful as him have been born, rather than just being. Ronan worshiped god, but he was a God in his own right, eternal.  

He was really fucking hot, even when it was clear he was exhausted and angry.

“Fuck off,  _ Joseph _ .”

“Do you want to go get a slushie?” Ronan seemed caught off-guard by the question.

“Sure.”

“You drive.” Kavinsky felt a thrill go through him when Ronan nodded an affirmation, a smile, elegant and mean, cracking his face.  They switched seats, and Kavinsky basked in this, how Ronan became instantly more when he closed his hand around the gear stick.

3:21.  Ronan loved the Mitsubishi.  Kavinsky drove it like a fucking idiot, but under Ronan’s hands, it was speed itself.  Kavinsky whistled through his teeth admiringly, and Ronan felt himself pressing down the pedal harder.  Something about Kavinsky made him want to show off, to make worse decisions than he would ever dare make in front of anyone, except for maybe Noah.  The neon signs of the gas station cast strange, wild shadows on his face as they pulled into the parking lot, and Ronan caught himself admiring the long, delicate nose that seemed so out of place just above Kavinsky’s savage smile.  If it weren’t for what he knew about him, Kavinsky would be almost waifish in appearance.  Ronan turned off the engine and got out of the car.

3:34. Kavinsky got out of the car after Ronan, who had a new spring in his step- Kavinsky smiled a little, feeling pleased that he- or at least, his car- had put it there.  

3:35.  Ronan pushed his way into the store, a bell ringing as he stepped in.  The employee behind a plexiglass barrier watched him distrustfully.  Ronan headed to the slushy machine, hearing the chime that indicated Kavinsky had gotten off his ass and sauntered into the gas station.  Ronan grabbed a cup and started filling it with blue slushie.

“I gotta go piss, sweetheart, get me one too?” Kavinsky had gotten up behind Ronan and was whispering in his ear in an intentionally annoying fashion.  

“Go fuck yourself”, Ronan said, but more for lack of anything else rude to say.  He filled up a second cup and took them up to the register, where he paid three dollars and forty-eight cents for two cups of pure, sugary, delicious tooth rot.  He walked around the store, waiting for Kavinsky to get out of the bathroom, looking at displays that seemed much too bright to his eyes.  

“Hey, fag.”

“Here’s your fucking slushie.”

Kavinsky didn’t say thank you, but Ronan didn’t expect him to.  He also didn’t expect for Kavinsky to reach towards his face and touch the dark circles under his eyes with cold, wet hands.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, commie?”

“You look like a fucking mess, dude, when was the last time you actually got good sleep? 1978?”

“Around there, yeah.”

Kavinsky looked at him intensely for a few seconds, slurping on his straw. 

“Is my tounge blue yet?” He stuck out his tongue for Ronan to see.

“Just a little bit.”

3:50.  Kavinsky followed Ronan out of the gas station.  All of Ronan’s movements were fluid, intentional, in a violent way.  He was beautiful in the way that a knife is beautiful, all sharp and hooks and begging you to hold it.  Ronan climbed into the driver’s side, and they both sat in the car in companionable silence as they drank their slushies.  Then Ronan turned on the car, and they sped away into the night.  

“Where’s your buddy?’ Ronan asked, sparing Kavinsky a glance.   

“Prokopenko? I decided to make my own fun tonight.  Gotta stay independent, you know? Is that what you’re doing with your dog trainer?”

“Excuse me?”

“Dick the third keeps you on a pretty tight leash except for at night.  Probably keeping someone else on that leash, hmm? Jealous it isn’t you?”  Kavinsky said this to get a reaction out of Ronan, and he could feel the tension climb in the car.  He waited for Ronan to snap, to insult him- 

“ _ Holy SHIT! _ ”  Ronan slammed on the brakes, jerked the steering wheel to the side to avoid hitting the deer that had bounded out in front of the car.  Kavinsky’s slushie flew out of his hand as he slammed into the dashboard.

4:02.  Ronan felt cold splash all over him, and a cry from the passenger seat, but he didn’t process what was happening until they were safely parked on the shoulder of the road, only a few feet from the entrance to the church parking lot. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“You got that right,” Ronan said, a half laugh in his throat before he turned to Kavinsky and saw blood.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just my nose, I hit it on the dashboard.”  He pinched his nose, leaning backwards.

“You should lean forward,” Ronan said, “or it’ll go back into your lungs.”

“Okay.”  He started laughing, then- 

“Why the fuck are you laughing?”

“You crazy bastard! You almost fucking flipped the car for a deer!”  Ronan, finally able to breathe again, started to laugh too.  They sat like that, gasping with laughter for a few minutes.  

“Worst thing is-”, Kavinsky said, barely able to get the sentence out- “You made me spill my fucking slushie!”

“Worst thing is, it spilled on me- I’m never going to be able to be not sticky.” Ronan looked down at his shirt- it didn’t show the blue raspberry, but he reeked of it.  He grabbed the hem of it, started to pull it over his head-

“Whoa dude, the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking off my shirt?  You threw your damn slushie all over me?” Ronan said from within the shirt.  When he had it over his head, he could see Kavinsky staring at him, wide-eyed, with blood covering the lower half of his face. 

4:10.  Kavinsky had never seen Ronan with his shirt off before- which seemed odd, now that he thought about it, because Ronan seemed very much like the kind of guy who lounged outside shirtless and drinking for fun.  His tattoo crept around his torso, vines and hooks circling at his ribs.  He was so pale- Kavinsky couldn’t rip his eyes away from the dark hair that lead from hs navel to beyond where his pants started, and  _ Jesus Christ _ -

“Hello? Anyone home?”  Kavinsky started, tearing his gaze back up to Ronan’s face.

“Get your fucking hands out of my face,” Kavinsky said, pushing away the hand that had been snapping a few inches from his nose.

“Did you hit your head harder than you thought?”

“I just didn’t know you had your damn nipples pierced, asshole.”

“Yeah, why would you? That’s my business, shitstain.”  Kavinsky realized his gaze had wandered again and pulled it back up to Ronan-

“Are you  _ blushing _ , man?”

“You wish!” He was.  He most certainly was. “Why are you acting like a weirdo, you-” 

And then he trailed off, because Kavinsky had undone his seatbelt and moved his face to inches in front of Ronan’s and his eyes were fixed on Ronan’s mouth and-

“What are you doing? Are you high?”

“Yeah, but you’re drunk, so we’re even.”

And Kavinsky’s mouth made contact with Ronan’s, which was softer than he had expected, and really quite nice- even if it tasted like beer and blue raspberry, and Kavinsky’s blood was making itself known.  Ronan felt his chest catch as they pulled away from each other.  Kavinsky clambered over from his seat, and Ronan’s hand found the small of his back as they kissed again.  Ronan’s shaved hairs tickled Kavinsky’s palms as he cradled his head in his hands, and Kavinsky smiled into their kiss- their teeth clacked against each other.  Ronan pulled back, and looked up at Kavinsky, who was grinning at him, teeth and earring shining in the darkness of the car.  Kavinsky looked down at Ronan, and smiled, looking at the smears of blood on his face.  They kissed again.  Ronan fumbled with his seatbelt, leaning up and pressing Kavinsky back against the steering wheel.  Kavinsky turned his head away and Ronan gently bit the skin where his jaw met his neck, and Kavinsky made a noise that made Ronan do it again. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Lynch.”

Kavinsky placed his palm flat against Ronan’s chest, and Ronan pulled back, and Kavinsky pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it out the window into the road.  Ronan’s breathing hitched.  Kavinsky pulled him closer, kissed the base of his throat- he sucked a hickey into Ronan’s fair skin and Ronan made a choked noise before pulling Kavinsky back up to his mouth and kissing him hard, pressing into him to the point that the horn blared out, startling them both.  

“Oh my god,” gasped Kavinsky.  Ronan had his hand pressed to his chest in a fashion that would’ve begged ridicule from Kavinsky if it weren’t for the fact that he really, really didn’t want to say anything that risked making him leave.  Kavinsky opened the car door and slid off Ronan’s lap, and slid into the backseat.  Ronan followed him in, looking suddenly very shy.  Kavinsky kissed him again, before his hand found its way to Ronan’s crotch, and Ronan gasped.

“Do- d’ya want to, or?” Kavinsky felt suddenly unsure of himself, and pulled back.  Ronan turned his head away from Kavinsky.

“Yeah.”   Ronan was blushing fiercely, and Kavinsky leaned in and kissed it, before resuming his previous place in Ronan’s lap.  Ronan looked up a Kavinsky, who looked foreign and strange to him without his douchebag sunglasses.  His chain glinted against his bare chest.   _ I really, really shouldn’t be turned on by the fact that he’s covered in blood _ .  Kavinsky smirked down at him, and with a vulgar twist of his hips, he elicited a moan out of Ronan.  Ronan bit Kavinsky’s lower lip, his collar bone.  Kavinsky toyed with one of Ronan’s nipple piercings in a way that made him hiss.  Ronan’s hands flew to Kavinsky’s belt, clumsily undoing it.  

“Hang on.”  Kavinsky got off Ronan and rummaged in his glove compartment while Ronan busied himself with taking off his pants.  He turned back, holding a condom and a small bottle, which he handed to Ronan, before following suit and taking off his cargo shorts-  _ cargo shorts, what an asshole _ .

Kavinsky kissed Ronan again.  Beer and blood and blue raspberry.  

Ronan flipped Kavinsky and himself around, so that they were lying lengthwise along the seat, and he pulled down Kavinsky’s boxers, which Kavinsky then kicked off.  Ronan leaned down, licking the head of his cock.  Kavinsky moaned.  Ronan smiled, his smirk pressed into Kavinsky’s thigh as he lightly ran his tongue over the delicate skin.  

“Could you hurry up and just fucking do it? Jesus Christ!”  Ronan looked down at Kavinsky, flushed and irritated.

“Do what?”

“Prep me, what else do you think?”

“I don’t…”  Ronan’s eyebrows were furrowed, and Kavinsky, embarrassed, snapped at him.

“Can you just hurry up and fuck me and stop sitting there being useless?”

“Fuck off, I’ve never-”

“Never what?”  Kavinsky paused, looking up at Ronan, who was looking away from him. “Wait- are you a virgin?”

Ronan didn’t reply.

“I can’t believe it!  The great Ronan Lynch, with his tattoo and his nipple piercings, is a fucking virgin!”

“Forget this man, this was a fucking mistake.”  Ronan started to move away from Kavinsky, to pick up his discarded clothing.  

“Wait dude, no- Ronan.”  Ronan’s head snapped around at the use of his first name. “Hey, I’m... sorry, dude, don’t go.  Here, I’ll do it.”  Ronan handed him the bottle of lube and watched him coat his fingers in it, before reaching down and pressing one into himself.  Kavinsky moaned a little, and Ronan’s head felt light as he watched him push the finger in and out.  He glanced up at Ronan and smirked-  _ how is it possible for that smile to have gotten any dirtier _ \- and put in a second finger.

“Having fun watching, Lynch?”

“Having fun showing off?”

“Yeah-  _ ah _ , Jesus Christ- yeah, I am.” Kavinsky looked up at Ronan through his lashes, in a false display of coyness.  Ronan could taste the salt of Kavinsky’s precum on his lower lip.  He fumbled with the wrapper of the condom, the waistband of his briefs, trying to keep looking at the mesmerizing sight of Kavinsky writhing on his own fingers as he rolled the condom onto his cock.  Kavinsky’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Ronan- curls of dark pubic hair, the persistent blush, the v of his hips, how hard he was.

“Oh my lord, just fuck me already.”  Ronan smirked at him, before grabbing his hips and pulling him closer.  Kavinsky held his breath when he felt the head of Ronan’s cock pressed against him, and released it as Ronan slowly pushed into him.  He moaned, loudly, hands flying to Ronan’s shoulders as he bottomed out.  

“ _ Fuck, _ Lynch. Fuck.”  Ronan stayed there for a moment, letting them both adjust, before starting to thrust in and out of Kavinsky.  Kavinsky pulled him down to kiss him again, shakily crying out into it as Ronan snapped his hips back into him.  Ronan smiled into the base of his neck, bit down hard on his shoulder.  Kavinsky laughed, and Ronan bit him again.  

“I’ll deny it if you-  _ ah _ \- ever bring it up, but you’re good at this.”  Ronan just smiled at this, and pulled Kavinsky up by his shoulders so he could push him up against the car door.

“You’re- fuck, Kavinsky- you’re making it easy for me to be good at this.”

Ronan thrust into him harder, and Kavinsky moaned and gasped, scraping his nails down Ronan’s back.  Ronan had a hand on his hip, keeping Kavinsky steady, and the other one was tangled in his hair, an intentional attempt to mess up his hair.  Ronan kissed him, and again, and again.  Kavinsky bit his lip, harder than he needed to, and Ronan tasted blood.  Kavinsky twirled the nipple peircing and Ronan gasped, the rhythm of his hips faltering a little before going back to the almost brutal pace,

“Fuck, Ronan, I’m close.”

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“ _ Ah _ , Ronan, oh my God, Ronan.”  Ronan slowed the pace of his hips, suddenly changing to slow, long thrusts in and out of Kavinsky, who glared and whined and begged for him to speed up, twisting himself down on Ronan’s cock.  

“You’re such an  _ asshole _ , I hate you, please Ronan, _ please _ , I-”  Kavinsky gasped, eyes fluttering shut as Ronan thrust into him, hard, as his hand wrapped around Kavinsky’s cock, stroking him to a release.  Kavinsky’s cum coated his stomach, and with a few more shaky thrusts, Ronan finished inside Kavinsky.  They remained like that for a few more moments, breathing hard, before Kavinsky opened his eyes and looked up at Ronan who was smiling down at him.  

“Jesus Christ, Joseph.”

“You know, I never in a million years imagined that I would bottom to you, but I guess that’s how this turned out, huh?”  Ronan laughed, and kissed Kavinsky, one last tender gesture between them before Ronan pulled out of him and tied off the used condom.  Kavinsky laid back, tired and happy, and Ronan, his eyes suddenly heavy, laid down next to him.  

6:02.  Ronan’s eyes slowly opened, as he floated back from his dreams.  Kavinsky’s face was pressed into his chest, breathing softly.  Ronan had never seen him this still, this peaceful- he almost looked sweet in the early light.  He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the car and both of them- they reeked of cum and blue raspberry slushie.  Ronan slowly sat up, and Kavinsky stirred but didn’t wake up.  Ronan’s shirt had somehow made it to under his head, and Ronan didn’t care enough about it to wake up Kavinsky for it.  He reached to the car floor and retrieved his pants and briefs, which he slid on the best he could.  Kavinsky snored.  Ronan opened the glovebox and searched around until he found a Sharpie pen.  He wrote what he wanted to, and then he left, grabbing Kavinsky’s shirt off the road as he walked towards his car.

6:54.  Kavinsky woke up, head aching because by that point, the drugs were out of his system entirely.  He had a faint memory of being curled into Ronan’s sleeping body, but Ronan and his things were gone, except for his shirt which had been Kavinsky’s pillow.  He sat up, groggily looking down at his chest before realizing that something was written there.  

_ THANKS FOR A LOVELY TIME, JOSEPH. LOVE, RONAN LYNCH. _

Ronan had signed his name so big it covered the majority of Kavinsky’s stomach.  He laughed, retrieving his sunglasses from the front seat, and pushing them onto his face.  Kavinsky might be the king of the roads, might be the kind of the night and of pleasure and of darkness, but if he was a king, Ronan was his God.  He picked up his phone and texted Ronan.

_ see u on the streets fag _


End file.
